


first light

by keeper0fthestars



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV First Person, Sweet Moments, imagine, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeper0fthestars/pseuds/keeper0fthestars
Summary: Ezra finally comes home and gets some much-needed rest
Relationships: Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	first light

I am awoken by the pink and gold light of early dawn. Oh, to wake with him, to feel him stir, to feel him breathing. The mess of his lashes feathered against his cheek, the layer of scruff, already thicker than it was a few hours ago, covering his perfect jawline and surrounding his sleep swollen lips. His familiar traces of scent are warm and encircling and for a second he seems like a dream. Curling my legs up, I settle on my side, feeling the familiar twinge of dull soreness in all the sweet places. Delicious reminders, a map of all the places that were so eager to receive his attention, and I smile at the luscious lingering dream of him, of us. Only it’s no dream, it’s the divine effects of muscles being forced beyond their limits, shuddering and pushed over the edge; his first night home in a month. 

Letting sleep pull me under again, blissful, yet knowing I could never conjure up dreams as delicious as the things he does to me in real life. And the memory of his single-minded fury last night has my body craving him even more if that’s possible. A hungry beam of longing. A hunger I am powerless to control. 

And, as though attuned to any slight shift in my wakefulness, he stirs. In his slumber, he turns towards me, instinctively finding my waist, pulling me towards him. Not awake, not at this hour, and especially not after being pushed to the bone beyond his limits for the last few weeks, but it is as though his sense of where I am in our bed somehow puts his subconscious at ease, like some deep-rooted conviction to keep me safe. Nestling in, I watch his lips lift into a drowsy half-smile. 

Inside my peaceful glowing haze of not wanting to rouse myself fully, it quietly occurs to me that the notion goes both ways. His nearness sustains me too, he is my refuge, my shelter, and I want to bottle it up and save it for the next time I’ll be here alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is going to be part of a series, but I'm posting this snippet now because I have zero self-control and my brain doesn't function in a linear fashion.
> 
> thank you for reading :) if you liked it please leave kudos or a comment!


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